


Not a Wordsmith

by blacktofade



Category: Thor (2011)
Genre: M/M, plot what plot?, psuedo-incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-09
Updated: 2012-01-09
Packaged: 2017-10-29 06:12:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/316650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blacktofade/pseuds/blacktofade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Siiy @ Livejournal. Four snapshots of Thor and Loki's relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not a Wordsmith

The celebration for the anniversary of Thor’s birth is beyond extravagant with enough meat and mead to feed the entire kingdom twice over. There’s good humour in Odin’s eyes and a healthy flush of alcohol on his cheeks, and Frigga’s never seen him look younger or happier. Above the din of music and tales of old, he leans over, hand pressing warmly against her shoulder.

“Where is Thor?” he asks and Frigga glances behind him, finding Thor’s seat empty. “I wish to make a toast.”

“I thought he was beside you; I shall find out.”

Odin tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and smiles gently, sitting back and returning to his conversation with his advisor.

Frigga takes another mouthful of food and chews slowly, letting her eyes roam across the room, trying to spot Thor in the chaos, but finding no sign of her son. She swallows and glances to her right.

“Have you seen your brother?” she asks, taking a sip of wine and letting the liquid burn a warm trail down her throat. Loki looks over, face passive and unchanging.

“No,” he says turning back to his dinner, but if Frigga hasn't figured him out, can't see the truth hidden in his expression, then she knows she never will. "He is not my responsibility."

He says it with finality, as though it's a fact Frigga should already know; Frigga just smiles into her glass and tips her head to hint that perhaps she agrees.

“Well, if you happen to see him, tell him his father wishes to make a speech.”

Loki doesn’t reply and Frigga takes it as consent, turning her attention back to dinner. It isn’t until she takes the last bite of food that she sees Thor slip into the hall through the back entrance, his hair and clothes askew. She notices the exact moment Thor meets Loki’s gaze because he double-takes and glances back over his shoulder. It takes Frigga only a moment to realise that the Loki sitting beside her is nothing more than a design of magic. She catches Thor’s elbow as he passes, keeping her smile warm with just a hint of knowing.

“Odin has been waiting for you,” she says and she can feel the eyes of Loki’s double watching them. “If you happen to see Loki, tell him he should be present for the king’s speech.”

Thor looks from Frigga, to Loki, and back again, his expression one that Frigga hasn’t seen since Thor was ten and she caught him stealing toffee from the kitchens. He apparently knows better than to try and lie – he is not a wordsmith like Loki and it serves him well to understand – because he bows his head quickly and tugs at the hem of his tunic.

“Of course, mother,” he says before quickly taking his place at Odin’s side.

Odin claps him on the shoulder in greeting and taps his knife against his cup to signal for silence. The projection beside Frigga never moves.

*

It is not often that Loki wishes to spar, but when he does, Sif knows better than to deny him.

There must be something wrong between him and Thor because Loki’s strikes are aimed to hit, and to hit hard. She swivels to dodge his blow, only realising too late that it’s a feign as his left elbow comes up, jabbing into her ribs with enough force that it momentarily winds her and she knows it’ll leave a bruise. The air outside is cool, soothing her lungs as she gasps for air, feet moving effortlessly, keeping Loki from gaining the upper hand as she runs through years of training in her mind.

His anger works to her advantage, as he seems to throw power into his hits instead of accuracy, leaving his right side open to attack as she flips, kicking out and landing a hard strike with her foot. He grunts, body rippling as he arches away from the touch, hand already coming up to catch the side of Sif’s face, but she twists again and leaves him grappling at air. She lets the momentum carry her forward arm slipping around Loki’s unguarded neck, pulling tight, already predicting his next move as he spins her over his shoulder, attempting to throw her to the ground, but she gets her feet under her and tugs, dragging him over and down, until he’s flat on his back, breathing hard, with Sif’s knee pressing dangerously into his sternum.

“Your mind is elsewhere,” she says between pants and he at least has the courtesy not to deny it.

She unpins him and stands, throwing out a hand to help him up, which he ignores, pushing himself to his feet and dusting off his clothes. He glances away, unbuttoning the collar of his tunic, his skin pale and damp underneath, but it isn’t until he turns his head that she notices the marks marring the flesh. There are dark bruises scattered carelessly down his throat, some that seem only a day old, some that even have teeth marks to match. She doesn’t have to ask to know whose mouth fits seamlessly over the marks; she averts her eyes.

“Let us go again,” Loki says eventually, posture tightening, already sliding into a fighting stance. She wipes her brow with her arm and nods with a smile on her face.

“Can’t stand to be beaten?”

He lashes out, falling victim to her harmless teasing, and Sif knows already that he’s going to lose again; he’s definitely distracted. She’s so busy blocking his blows that she doesn’t even notice that it begins to rain until her hair begins to stick to her face and her palm slips wetly against Loki’s fist, letting him land his first lucky hit. The water gets in her eyes and she blinks wildly trying to keep them focussed on Loki, but the rain falls faster and harder and Loki’s punches turn more brutal by the second. She ducks his arm, swiping a foot out to throw Loki off balance, but he twists and lets out a terrifying noise as he reels his arm back and the tosses a dirty hit that connects with Sif’s cheekbone, bruising it immediately. It throws her off, but Loki’s fist coils back for another punch, and she’s about ready to call the fight off before one of them is seriously injured, when the hit never lands and Loki grunts in anger.

Sif lifts her head, finding Thor’s hand wrapped around Loki’s wrist, holding him back, the two of them glaring daggers at each other.

“Do not turn your anger against Sif,” Thor says evenly, thunder rumbling threateningly above them. “It is not her fault you are upset.”

Loki pulls his arm free and Sif raises herself to her feet once more, taking a small step back to keep from getting between the two of them. She means to complain to Thor that she can handle Loki herself, but with one look at his expression, she knows his mood will not allow it.

“Where have you been?” Loki snaps, pushing his hair out of his face. “I have been searching for you.”

“It does not matter; I am here now.”

Before Sif can blink, Loki’s fist flies forward, deliberately seeming to aim for Thor’s mouth, but Thor grabs his arm and twists, Loki letting out a noise of startled pain in response.

“Come,” Thor says, turning away and tugging Loki with him, never letting go as he strides out of the courtyard. Sif stands awkwardly in the rain for only a moment before she throws her arms in the air and sighs in exasperation. It’s the fifth time it’s happened to her now, but it doesn’t ever seem to get any better.

*

Hogun doesn’t make a habit of strolling through disused corridors, but with his arm wrapped around the waist of a beautiful, young woman, who can’t quite keep her hands to herself, he feels a distinct need for privacy. She tugs at his collar, mouth close to his ear as she laughs and accepts the kiss he presses to her neck, while he leads them down another hallway to a place where he knows they’ll never be disturbed.

There’s no warning for what he finds; no hushed voices or low moans to even hint that there’s anyone else besides them there. Yet, when they round the last corner and one hand slips under the hem of the woman’s dress, he finds that his secret hideout is not as secret as he once thought.

Thor stands not three metres away, pressing his nightly prize against the wall, his face hiding their identity as he nips at their ear. There’s one pale, lean leg slung high over his hip and he holds it in place with a large hand and a firm grip; even from where he stands, Hogun can see the whitening of skin under his fingertips, knowing it’ll bruise under the touch.

The girl at Hogun’s side laughs again as she realises why they’ve stopped and Thor’s head whips to the side at the noise; he meets Hogun’s gaze before he can avert his eyes, and looks almost as shocked as Hogun feels when he catches sight of who Thor’s with.

“Prince Thor,” he says in greeting, apology, and farewell all at once as he bows his head and steps back, tugging the woman at his side with him. “Prince Loki.”

He slips around the corner and walks briskly away before either of them can call him back to explain. Some things are better left alone, he thinks, and doesn’t even once glance behind him.

*

“You can’t just – ” Thor begins, only to be cut off by Loki’s warm, wet mouth. “Every time we – ”

Loki’s lips muffle the words, but he smirks as though he already knows what Thor is trying to say.

“I can’t just distract you every time we fight?” He hums quietly into the kiss, fingers already wriggling into the gaps of Thor’s clothes. “I beg to differ.”

“Not just when we fight,” he says as Loki’s mouth moves to his jaw, teeth nipping and tongue soothing. “When we talk, when I’m talking to others, when we pass in the hallways; you are insatiable.”

Loki leans back, hands slipping inside Thor’s trousers without even unfastening them.

“You could always tell me to stop.”

Thor groans as Loki wraps his fingers around him, stroking softly, tantalisingly, as though he knows exactly what he’s doing to Thor’s mind, which wouldn’t surprise him, really.

“You need only say ‘No’, Thor. Or is it too hard?”

He twists his hand, fingertips sliding just below the head of his cock and Thor bucks into the touch. His movements say more than words ever could and Loki looks proud and reckless, bottom lip pinched tightly between his teeth as he grins.

Thor moves like lightening striking the ground, his hands quickly grabbing Loki, holding and lifting, shifting them until Loki is flat on his back on top of his desk, legs spread wide, surprise clear on his face. The expression slides into obvious need and Thor knows there’s no way he’s ever going to win an argument about sex with Loki, not when he licks his lips and opens his mouth as though begging for it to be taken. Thor leans over, pressing their lips together roughly, and Loki’s legs wind tightly around his waist, fingers grappling along his back.

“You could always tell me to stop,” Thor teases, mouth sliding to Loki’s ear to nibble on the soft shell.

“If you stop, I shall end you.”

Thor laughs and easily tugs himself free of Loki’s grasp, hands busy unfastening his own trousers; he has no intentions of stopping. He keeps his gaze locked with Loki’s as Loki sheds his own clothes, knees falling open as though in invitation. He doesn’t bother pushing his clothes beyond his thighs, his need far too heady for him to do anything more than step forwards and hold Loki’s legs apart. Loki lets out a low noise, mouth moving in a familiar pattern, whispering magic, and Thor knows Loki’s already prepared and ready for him.

He pushes in without warning, Loki’s head falling back with a dull thud, calves tightening around the small of Thor’s back, pulling him in deeper. The head of Thor’s cock slips in, the rest of his length bottoming out and Loki groans in reaction, body writhing, pushing for more; all Thor can do is give.

Loki is quiet, but greedy as he shifts and slides beneath him, urging him on, one hand crawling down his stomach before wrapping around his cock, stroking hard and fast in time to Thor’s thrusts. The sight has Thor on the edge before he even realises he’s there and it’s when Loki squeezes around him, with a knowing smile on his face that he comes without warning, head thrown back, eyes still focussed on Loki’s face. He rolls through the pleasure, breath catching as his body becomes too sensitive to stand movement, but he remains inside of Loki, just long enough for Loki to tap two fingers against the tip of his cock and come in thick strands across his thighs and tunic.

Thor slips free and collapses half on top of Loki, mouth moving gently against Loki’s throat, feeling the thrum of Loki’s heartbeat.

“Perhaps we should set up a schedule,” Loki murmurs, eyes shut, face relaxed, “if you’re unable to keep up with me.”

Thor lifts his head and waits for Loki to look at him before he glares at the smirk firmly attached to Loki’s lips.

“That is not the issue here,” he replies, but Loki just lets out a quiet huff of laughter in response.

“Always up for a challenge, then?”

“There is no challenge.”

Loki stretches beneath him, resettling with a crack of joints and a loud yawn.

“Then you won’t complain again when I next pull you aside for a – ” he pauses as though searching for the right word. “Chat.”

“Would anything change if I did complain?”

Loki slips a hand behind Thor’s head and pulls him back down to his mouth.

“No,” he whispers before closing the distance and silencing them both.


End file.
